Addiction
by But I Have Promises To Keep
Summary: Sequel to Broken Pieces: Natara is home safe, and is slowly figuring out what happened after she was taken. That should mean the worst is over now…right?
1. Piece by Piece

**Review replies from _Broken Pieces:_**

**N****at157s: Thanks so so so much! That really means so much to me :)**

**mozzi-girl: Thanks!**

**Crimson Endings: Thanks!**

**HopelessRomantic1994: Thanks!**

* * *

**_Natara William's PoV_**

When I come to, I'm covered in cold sweat.

I'm shivering—trembling—unable to control myself. It's just like that time Mal and I were drugged…lying on that cold floor…

Even the familiar warmth of before is snaked around my body.

I open my eyes to find myself in Mal's arms, tremors running down my spine. The purest look of concern has spread across his face.

My hands sting, and looking down, I see fresh blood on my carpet. There's a lamp shattered on the floor, glass littering the beige carpet like morning dew.

Then it comes back to me…there was someone in my apartment.

I jerk away from Mal as if electrocuted, pinning myself against the closest wall so they can't sneak up behind me.

"Natara…what's wrong?".

"I saw someone" I say. His back is to the door…but I'm watching it. I won't let them sneak up behind him. "Someone's here".

"Nat…no one's here" he says gently. "Do you feel alright?". His brow is furrowed in thought, and he slowly comes towards me as if expecting me to bolt. I take one last look around the room, looking for whoever was here before. I know I saw someone. I know I did.

Mal reaches out, his hand on my arms as if to coax me out of the corner. I just shrug him off and walk away. I just need time to think.

"I'm fine" I finally answer, walking over to the couch.

"You're bleeding".

"I'll take care of it" I say. The cuts don't seem too deep, only superficial. "Please…I just need time alone to think".

Mal gives me one last concerned look, but I can tell he's too tired to argue. I am too…now. My headache is gone, but I suddenly feel like I haven't slept in a thousand years.

He seems to hold my gaze for a long time, as if wondering if something is wrong with me. There isn't. I know there isn't, I'm fine. I'm just tired, still healing from my concussion. On top of all that, I'm still putting the broken pieces of my memories from the last three years back together. It's a lot to take it at once.

After a few long moments Mal leaves, closing the now-broken door behind him. It still closes, but the edge is slightly dented, leaning a slight gap between the frame and the door. But that's the least of my concerns now.

I walk into the bathroom, grabbing bandages to wrap up my hands. I brush the few shards of glass from my hands, wrapping the thin gauze around my palms. When I'm done I walk back out to clean up the glass, but by the time I get back out there my headache is back; twice as bad as before.

So instead I sit on the couch, rubbing my hands over my temples. I'll clean it up in the morning, I can't do anything now feeling like this.

Rather than going back to my bedroom, I curl up right there on the couch, without even turning off the lights. I shut my eyes, but sleep doesn't come easy. Too many thoughts are running through my head. Particularly, questions about what just happened. Maybe Mal was right to be concerned.

Maybe I'm not okay.

Maybe there _is_ something wrong with me.


	2. Shattered Masks

**Sorry for the late update, I've just been really busy O.o Sorry if I haven't been reviewing other stories as much too, I really want to, I just haven't had a lot of reading time recently. There is Maltara in this chapter if that makes up for it though…**

**Review replies:**

**mozzi-girl: thanks!**

**HopelessRomantic1994: thanks! **

**Things in Ink: thanks!**

**Crimson Endings: thanks! **

**Nat157s: thanks so much, that really means a lot!**

* * *

**Natara Willaim's PoV**

The next morning doesn't bring any relief from my headache. I still feel tired as I get ready for work, as if I hadn't slept at all. You can even see it in my face, the tiredness in my gaze.

'_You're just coming down with a cold'_ I tell myself as get dressed, splashing water in my face in an effort to wake up. _'It's just a cold'._

Mal's there to pick me up in the morning, his normal warm smile greeting me as I climb into the passenger side.

"Good morning to you too" Mal says sarcastically as I buckle up without saying a word, and we pull out onto the street. He seems to notice my fragile state of mind though, and adds "You okay?".

"I'm fine". I try to force a smile, try to show him that I'm alright from what happened last night. But…I can't. I'm just tired. Tired of being confused and being kept in the dark by my own mind, and really, just tired of being tired. Not 'fine' at all.

After that the whole day is awful. No matter where I go, every light I see is bright enough to feel like a dagger in my skull. Every noise feels like an explosion in my head. My temples still throb. This isn't my first concussion, there was that other one when I tackled that guy out the window of Mal's apartment…but this feels different. Deeper…almost. Kind of like a bad hangover. Of course, this probably just means I had a worse concussion this time. Nothing to worry about.

I'm almost overwhelmingly relieved when my full day of filling out nothing but paperwork is done, glad to finally get a chance to rest when I get home. Mal drives me back, and to my surprise he gets out with me as we pull up to my apartment building.

"I wanna make sure you get inside okay" he says in a low voice, which I appreciate, when I glance at him quizzically. "You just seemed…off today".

I can see it in his eyes that he's thinking about last night, that random occurrence that caused the cuts on my hands. "You don't have to do that".

"I know". He smiles, that gentle good-natured smile that fits so naturally across his face. I manage to return it, and the two of us walk inside.

When we reach my door, Mal goes to turn around, but something occurs to me. A memory, or more accurately, the ghost of one. I remember the sound of an explosion ringing in my ear, the cruel sting of concrete on my skin. I remember panicking, my brain trying to put together what just happened, trying to find out of Mal's okay…

"Your apartment" I say quietly before I go inside.

"What?".

"Your apartment…there was a bomb. It-it blew up…didn't it?".

He smiles again, as if amused that I'm only realizing this. "Yeah".

"Do you have somewhere to stay?".

"I can find somewhere".

"Where'd you go last night?" I ask, concerned.

"I found a hotel".

"Mal…you know you can always stay here". I look deep into his pure blue eyes, something inside of me lighting up like a spark. Even my headache seems to fade away for a moment, long forgotten. Because there's something else I remember too.

Mal's face is inches from mine. At this distance, I can almost feel something. Something warm and passionate.

Almost familiar.

I lean closer and our lips meet, his breath warm in the cold hallway. The silence around us is no longer dangerous, shadows no longer sinister. Now…it's almost comforting. As if the world itself has stopped.

Arms around me, he squeezes tightly, hearing my breath catch as our warmth is combined.

But then something inside me seems to waver, and I can feel myself tremble.

_No_ I think.

The tremors are soft, so much so Mal probably has mistaken them for a shiver from the cold. But they feel like they're everywhere, on my arms and my face. I know it's there. The disagreement between my body and brain.

Mal seems to notice that I seem to be inching away from him, and he stops, his arms still wrapped around mine.

I take a step back, something that must be so unexpected that he just lets go. I start to stumble and fall, barely stopping myself from crumbling like a dropped marionette puppet. The result is a sharp pain in my knee, the inability to get up and the heaving of my stomach that follows. The wild spins, icy and cold as if I've been taken millions of miles away and I'm watching through a telescope.

"Natara…" I hear someone call.

I feel a hand reach over to grab me, and I look up. The figure is shrouded in night, his body made of shadow. But covering his face…is a pure white mask.

"No!" I shove myself away from him, my arms shaking so much I can barely drag myself across the floor. "Get away from me!".

I try and stand to fight, but my head too heavy. I can barely keep myself in the kneeling position I'm in. The figure reaches for me one last time, and as he touches me the mask falls away, shattering into a million pieces on the floor.

I don't get a chance to look up at the shadow before I black out.


	3. Not Alone

**Sorry for the super late update, school's just been kinda crazy lately :/**

**My Quiet Riot: Thanks so much!**

**Crimson Endings: Thanks so much**

**HopelessRomantic1994: Thanks so much! **

**Mozzi-girl: aww, really? That means so much, same to you! **

* * *

I can feel something warm next to me as I wake up, wrapping itself around me like a blanket. Outside, I can hear the heavy taps of raindrops on my window, but I still don't open my eyes. I cling to sleep like I did as a kid on a early Saturday morning; hoping for a few more minutes before I have to crawl out from the covers and face the world. After a few minutes I give up, admitting defeat to consciousness and opening my eyes.

It's dark, but I can still tell that I'm in my living room. The clock on the wall tells me that I've woken up in the early hours of the morning, much too soon to get up and start my day. Beside me on the couch, still sitting up, I can feel Mal surrounding me in his arms. We had slept together, in the most literal sense of the phrase. For some reason this doesn't strike me as odd or strange…it feels natural. Like some unspoken agreement was passed between us that meant Mal wasn't just a partner or a friend anymore. That somehow, he's become so much more than that.

He's asleep, his chocolate brown hair messy and his mouth slightly ajar. I can't help the smile that forms on my lips, despite the events that brought us to this point. I would give anything to stay in this moment, but I can't. I have to face the reality that Mal was right.

There _is_ something wrong with me.

As gently as I can, I ease Mal's warm arms off of me, the ghost of their warmth resting on my shoulder long after I leave the safety of the couch. I pull the blanket that's resting there onto him, as if this can compensate for my absence.

But after that, all I find myself doing is pacing. Worry has my throat in a chokehold, depriving my brain of oxygen and making every doubt possible blown way out of proportion.

I'm not myself anymore. At least…I don't feel like myself. I can't think straight. I don't have that drive I always had to do something anymore. This is the second time I've had one of those…hallucinations…or whatever they are. I don't want to live like this, I _can't _keep living like this. I need answers, I need to either find someone to fix me or find a way to fix myself. I need help. I need…Mal.

I steal a glance over at my partner, who's still fast asleep on the couch. He stayed with me, he didn't even leave after I fell asleep. He wanted to make sure I was alright.

But his constant presence still worries me. What if, one of these times, he reaches across the bed and realizes that it's not Natara that's lying next to him? What if he starts trying to find help for me? Sure, he didn't take me to a hospital this time; probably because he knew I would be find just like my 'fit' last time. But what if I got worse? There's no doubt in my mind that he would take me to the hospital, get me help. But what would that do? I wouldn't be able to find the answers I need, or even find out what happened. And God knows how long they would keep me there. Months, maybe even years, if they think I'm just crazy.

Suddenly, the phone rings, forcibly snapping me out of my thoughts and making me nearly jump out of my skin. Who could be calling at this hour? After a moment I realize it's Mal's phone, and before I can even move a muscle he's awake and already answering it.

There's no greeting as he does. No smile as the caller apologizes for calling so late, no look of blatant annoyance. His rather sleepy and confused expression is replaced by one of shock and possibly even anger. I sit down on the couch next to him as he listens, hoping to catch a piece of the conversation. But whoever's on the line is either taking very fast or very quickly, because I don't hear a thing.

After a minute or two Mal hangs up, an unusually grim look replacing his normally playful smile. I know something is wrong, even before I open my mouth and ask.

"What was that?".

He hesitates for a moment, as if trying to avoid the question. When he does answer, I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Natara…Shawn's gone missing from the hospital".


	4. Connected

**Wow…so it's been a while since I've updated :/ In my defense though…I've kinda some weirdly scheduled classes a lot which basically means my schedule is really hectic. In other news…I turn seventeen in a few days! :D Soon I'll be a allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts :)…**

**Anyway, thanks so much to _HopelessRomantic1994, mozzi-girl, DizzyRedhead, Maltara2012_ and _Crimson Endings_ for the reviews!**

* * *

"Natara! Where are you going!?".

I don't stop. I'm already out of the building and half-way across the parking lot before Mal catches me, grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to face him.

"Where do you think I'm going? I'm going back to the precinct, and I'm going to find Shawn before it's too late" I say sharply.

"Now?".

"Yes, now! I think we both remember what happened the last time he was free". I give him a sharp look, and somewhere in his deep blue eyes I catch the slightest echo of the rage he had when Ken died. I can't let that happen again. What if this time he kills Mal? Or Amy, Kai, Blaise or Jeremy? I can't risk letting another friend die.

"I know" he says darkly. "It's just…I'm worried about you".

I sigh, running a hand through my sleep-tousled hair. I probably look like a mess right now, but frankly, I really don't care anymore. "Don't. I can take care of myself" I say sternly.

"I never said that you couldn't".

I glance at Mal's car in the corner of my vision, wanting nothing more than to be inside and growing one step closer to catching Shawn. "I know. I just thought that you of all people would understand that I need to do this".

"I do".

"Then help me. I'm doing this, with or without you. So you can either stand by my side…or get the hell out of my way". I can feel the heat rise in my face; anger surging through my veins. The thing is though…I don't know why I'm angry at Mal. I really don't have a reason to be at all. I want to calm down, I want to tell Mal that I'm sorry and that I love him…but that seems to be yet another thing on the list that I can't seem to do.

His hand slides down my arm, his fingertips sliding down my forearm in such a light whisper of a touch that it sends shivers up my spine. His hands meets mine, his large fingers interlacing in mine. "I'm with you".

I reach down with my other hand, feeling the large one that's molded to mine. I can feel the pressure of a promise there; the reassurance that, at least for now, I don't have to face this alone. This gesture seems to evaporate the anger from me as quickly as water on a hot sidewalk, calming me down.

For just a moment, I forget why I came out here. I forget that the world around me even exists, that there's a murderer out there that I need to catch. For just a moment…I forget that there's something wrong with me.

I pull Mal close, letting his arms wrap around me, hiding me from the world. I am not alone. I never was. Mal never left me. He was there when I was being held by Genevieve, he was even there when I doubted him. He was there when I didn't remember him or the person that he made me. He's always been there to make sure I don't fall off the deep end, and I'm always there to protect him too. He never saw me as someone who needed to be saved; he saw me as someone who needed a little encouragement so I could help myself.

He's my balance. My compromise. He is there for me, and I am there for him. I am one half, he is the other. And I was stupid to forget that.

"Mal?" I say quietly.

"What?".

"…Thanks".

"For what?".

"…For not treating me differently… Like a victim".

I can feel his lips press into the top of my head, and the sound of his steady breathing fills my ears. "I'm just glad they tried to take your memories…not your life".

We remain frozen like that for a moment; not caring that it's probably three in the morning. Not caring that we're in the middle of a freezing parking lot. "I love you" I say softly.

"I love you too" he whispers back, his voice as quiet as the early morning wind.

I was right.

I was never really alone.


	5. Contact

**Thanks so much to _mozzi-girl, HopelessRomantic1994 _and _DizzyRedhead _for the reviews :D**

* * *

Walking over to Mal's car, I tug at the handle for a moment, and when I find it locked I look at him expectantly. He pats his pockets, looking for his keys for a moment before saying "I left my keys upstairs".

I pull the thin jacket I'm still wearing from work tighter around me, and despite the fact that I want to go with him to find another one, the need to leave as soon as possible outweighs it. "I'll wait out here".

"I'll be right back".

I nod, leaning against the sleek frame of the car as I wait for him to return. I watch his form disappear into the darkness, and as he enters the warm building a shiver runs down my spine. A few minutes pass. Then a few more. My ears go numb, and I decide to go in after him, hoping that he hasn't lost his keys.

That's when I hear the sound of an engine roaring, the noise an old vehicle would make. I look around for the source, but they must be around the back of the building, because I don't see them. Who else could be up at this hour?

I walk around back, keeping my eye out for Mal should he return. As I round the corner I see an old pick-up truck, the shadows of two forms barely visible. Maybe it's my imagination…but I think I see a something shiny being held to the head of one of the figures inside.

My stomach drops as I glance up to where the window of my apartment is, searching for the non-existent shadow of Mal. The light is on, but there's no movement inside that I can see. I glance back to the truck one last time, noticing the lack of license plate on the back.

"Stop!" I scream, reaching for my gun before I realize I left it back at home. Swearing under my breath, I sprint full-out to the vehicle as it pulls away, barely able to grab the edge of the tailgate before it takes off at full speed. I hold on for my life, my leg dragging painfully behind me as it pulls out onto the street. I try to stand up, but the speed is already too much. I grit my teeth against the pain, trying with all my might to pull myself onto the back. If Mal's in there…I can't lose this truck. _I can't._

The truck flies over a speed bump as it races out of the parking lot, jarring every bone in my body. My fingers slip and I go flying back, landing painfully on the pavement. The breath is knocked right out of me as I throw my arms out in front of me for protection, gasping for air.

By the time I recover and look up the truck is gone, leaving me alone in the cold and empty parking lot. I slowly try to pick myself up, knowing my next best bet is to get help as soon as I can. But the second I move every bone in my body aches, and pain jolts up my left leg like an electric charge. Nothing feels broken, but my leg still burns painfully. I reach down to feel the fabric of my pant-leg torn to shreds from the knee down, and blood oozes from between my fingers as I touch my stinging calf. It takes every bit of my remaining strength to get up after that and slowly drag myself back into the building.

I resist looking at my injury before I get back to my apartment, knowing the moment I see it it'll feel a lot worse. The raw skin screams as I force myself up the steps, and by the time I reach the still-ajar door I nearly collapse inside. I manage to make it to the couch before I look down.

The side of my leg is angry red and partially brushed away, slowly oozing blood. Pieces of gravel stick out from the skin, and as I reach down to brush away a small piece I nearly scream. I'm just about to get up and call for help when I notice a note tacked to my door.

'_Are you willing to kill to save the one you love?'_.


	6. Deception

**Sorry this chapter's rather long. :/ I have nationwide exams in a few weeks (I'm so so so nervous) and don't know when I'll be able to update again. I'm hoping I can before Christmas break is over…but I just don't know. So just in case I don't get online in a few days: Happy Holidays! :D And thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! **

* * *

My fingers are only inches from my phone when it rings, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I pick it up slowly, keeping it only inches from my ear.

"Hello?".

There's a long pause. I can hear heavy breathing on the other end. "If you want to see Mal Fallon alive again…you will do exactly as I say".

* * *

Work that day is terrible and filled with lies and fake smiles. I have to pretend that I'm happy. That Mal simply has a cold and is taking a day off. The whole time I keep expecting someone to call me out for it and ask me where Mal really is. But no one does. And I'm not sure whether I was hoping for it or not.

My headache returns sometime during the day, making the effort of keeping a straight face is harder. I took care of my injured leg, but every step I take still shoots pain up my leg. It doesn't help that I have to make a conscious effort to hide my limp.

I spend a long time following Shawn's instructions that night. I do my hair with careful hands, put on my favorite earrings and wear a long green dress to cover my injury. I put off hooking my phone and gun to a holster on my good leg for as long as possible.

I borrow Mal's car to get there. My hands shake; partially from nerves, partially from reasons I can't really explain as I drive to my destination.

It's a small high-class bar. One that's much to fancy for my taste, but one that I think Mal might like. A blonde-haired man in a tuxedo waves for me, his familiar face looking exactly like the photo Shawn showed me. I feel a shiver run down my spine as he loops an arm around mine, leading me inside.

According to Shawn; he's embezzled thousands of dollars from the supposed 'charity' he owns. According to him…hundreds of kids in shelters across the state have missed meals because of him.

I'm his 'date'.

A fake dating site profile and one day was all it took. I have to hand it to Shawn for finding someone like him in such short notice. I wonder if this was all his doing, or whether he hacked someone else's account. But I can't worry a about that.

All I can do tonight is try to find a way to get him alone. After that…I have no choice but to do what I came here to do.

I shutter as my 'date', Ethan Hart, leads me to a small table. All around us, I can see business men and women in suits, standing around and drinking cocktails and chatting idly. Witnesses.

I want nothing more than to inch away from the man holding me and get the hell out of here…but I can't. Shawn told me if I try anything even slightly suspicious…he'll kill Mal. I can't take that chance. I _won't_ take that chance.

Ethan introduces me to a few of his friends that pass us by, and I manage to smile the whole time as I greet face after face. Unsurprisingly, Ethan also seems to be a well-liked guy.

As the evening draws to a close I can feel my hand inching toward the handgun holstered to my good ankle, and I want nothing more than to get the whole ordeal over with. As if in cue, Ethan suggests we hit the road before finishing his drink. I only pretend to take one last sip of mine before I agree. I slip my gun from its holster as I stand up, hiding it behind my back and covering it with my hands.

The dark parking lot is empty as we exit, most people thinking it to early to to home yet. Ethan offers me a ride home, which I refuse.

"We can come back for your car in the morning" he says with a smile. "Wouldn't want you to get in an accident". He opens the door to his car to help me in, and when I don't move he asks "something wrong?".

Before he can even blink my handgun is trained on him, aimed at a point right between his eyes.

A look of utter shock crosses his face, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights as his drunken brain tries to process what's going on. When he snaps out of it, he weakly raises his hands in surrender.

"Please…you can have whatever you want…just don't hurt me".

"I don't want anything you have". My hands shake as I unlock the safely, taking one step closer. My heart pounds so for forcefully against my chest it hurts, and I don't know why. It's not like I haven't killed before.

And then it hits me. This man is no threat to me. The only people I've ever shot were either threatening Mal or myself. The only people I ever killed were in self-defense; they were always holding a gun to my head or a knife to my throat. It was never a choice. But this…this _is_ a choice. All he ever did was steal money. And I don't even know if he's guilty, I'm going off of someone's word.

_Shawn's_ word.

"Please…" the he begs. Ethan, the man who was talking an laughing only minutes ago, is trembling. "Please…don't kill me. I have a sister…please…". He slowly reaches inside his coat pocket, throwing an open wallet at my feet. I don't look for long, but it's enough time for the girl's face to bun into my corneas. She looks just like her brother. She's Neha's age, and the expression on her face shows that she adores the person taking the picture.

"Please…I'm all she has in the world".

My finger is on the trigger.

"Don't make me leave her alone".

I can feel my arm tense. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'll do anything. Please…she's my sister".

I open my eyes, making the huge mistake of looking him dead in the eyes. He makes an expression that matches a begging puppy, and I know that I can't do this. All I can think of is that girl, crying and screaming as she gets the news. All I can think of is Neha.

In one fluid motion I rear back and hit him upside the head with the butt of my gun, one phrase barely escaping my lips.

"…I have a sister too…".

Ethan slumps to the ground, blood trickling down the side of his face. He doesn't move, and without even checking to see if he's alive, I pull my phone out of the side of my holster and take a picture just like Shawn told me. My hands tremble as I wait over an agonizing minute for a reply, hoping with all my heart that he bought it.

_'Your reward is at home'_ is the reply.

I take off running.

* * *

My headache has built up by the time I get home, coupled with black dots that swim in my vision. By the time I limp up the stairs I feel shaky and weak; and I know I'm going to pass out. But I need to find what was left for me first. I need to find the next piece of the puzzle before I can give in.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears by the time I make it inside and back to my bedroom to find a cardboard box on my bed. The black dots are closing in as I rip the top open, peering inside to find several pieces of paper and a small orange pill bottle.

I swallow a lump in my throat as I take the bottle, knowing instantly what it must be.

To be sure I take the cap off, smelling the few round capsules inside. I would recognize that bitter smell anywhere.

This is what Genevieve gave me to make me forget Mal.

I can feel my whole body shutter as I dump one onto my palm, and as I slip the tiny capsule in my mouth I can feel my legs give out. I fall on the bed, shivering and shaking, trying desperately to force the pill down my patched throat. I can feel myself involuntarily reaching across the bed, my arms outstretched to hold the warm body that's no longer with me.

I should have known. I should have known all along. Whatever Genevieve gave me must have been really strong…

…Because she made me into a drug addict.

* * *

**Please review? **


	7. Save Mal Fallon

**Thanks so much to _HopelessRomantic1994, mozzi-girl_ and _DizzyRedhead_ for the reviews! **

* * *

I wake with a start the next morning at the sound of my cell phone, and it takes me a moment to register exactly where I was last night. I can see my gun on the floor, and a box and pill bottle on my bed; their contents strewn across the room. Ignoring my phone, I take a minute to put together the pieces.

"Oh…" I say quietly to myself as the memories start to trickle back.

To my surprise, as I pick up my phone, I feel totally normal. Not shaky or tired; even my headache is gone.

When I answer my phone I don't even get a chance to speak before Amy's familiar voice sounds out through the speaker. "Where are you?".

"What do you…?" I glance at the clock, noticing that I'm almost two hours late for work. "Dammit" I say under my breath. "Don't worry, I'm on my way".

"Just hurry! I've can't cover for you much longer!". Before I can even utter a word of thanks she hangs up, and as quickly as I can I change my clothes and get ready for work. I glance at the papers on my bed as I do, studying what appears to be the paperwork for a murder case.

One of the last things I do is gather the little yellow pills on the counter in my palm, hesitating for a moment before slipping them back in the bottle and into my jacket pocket. I won't use them unless it's necessary…I can find help later. I'll need my mind if I'm going to find Mal, and depriving myself of this is only going to make my mental state worse. But when this is over…I _will_ find help.

I scoop the last few papers in my arm on my way out, hesitating before I head out the door. No matter what those pills do to me…I need to find Mal. Grabbing a black marker from one of the drawers in the kitchen, I roll up the sleeve on one of my arms, writing three large words across my forearm just in case.

_'Save Mal Fallon'._

* * *

As I make my way across the bullpen to my desk, the lack of Mal's presence weighs down on me heavy as ever. I keep glancing over to the place where he used to sit, expecting him to make some sarcastic remark or to complain about paperwork. As I sit down, I keep thinking I'll feel him brush up against me as he passes.

There's a file on my desk, and to my surprise it's the same one I found in the box. Shawn couldn't be making his message more clear.

He wants me to kill whoever is in this file.

"You on your own again today?" I hear someone ask behind me. I turn to see Blaise watching me. Jeremy's waiting for her by the door; the two were clearly just heading out.

"Yeah…Mal's still…sick" I lie.

"Not really like him" she responds, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He usually doesn't like to take off like that".

I'm spared from answering by Jeremy calling her name. She gives me one last narrow-gazed glance before taking off, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.

I let out a long breath of relief, grabbing the second file off my desk before heading outside to where I parked Mal's car. That was way too close.

I glance at the file one last time, not bothering to look at the name this time. It's appears to be about a man who doesn't live too far from here. Suspect to a hit-and-run the other night, killing a nine-year-old boy.

My knuckles are white on the steering wheel as I take off down the street. I take a quick glance at the scrawny man in the photo as I take a few turns and end up on his street, my eyes immediately locking on a man with his features about to climb into his car. My eyes dart down to the dented bumper, and by the time they're back on him I can see panic in his eyes. He practically throws himself in his car, taking off down the street at a dangerous speed. I follow behind him, only going fast enough that I don't lose him.

As soon as he gets the chance he gets on the nearest highway, darting between the other cars as I follow behind him. As the highway clears up I press harder and harder on the gas, knowing I won't be able to go this fast for long without crashing. Bracing myself, I get right behind him, flooring the gas and ramming right into his bumper.

I'm practically sucked back into my seat as my car jerks underneath me, spinning and skidding across the street. I grab the steering wheel as hard as I can, trying desperately to gain control of the vehicle. My heart roars in my ears as the car jerks out from under me as it skids right off the side of the road, and my stomach drops as the ground is taken out from under me. I'm jerked around more times than I can count as the car rolls over, only saved by the seatbelt as the deafening gunshot-like sound of the airbag deploys. I throw my arms in front of my face, feeling my shoulder pop as the force of the airbag jars my shoulder. My head goes flying back, smacking into the headrest. A moment later, I feel something got trickles down my back.

It's over as quickly as it began. A deafening silence falls, and only after a moment do I open the eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed.

The first things I notice is the spiderweb of cracks running across my windshield. Luckily, other than the destroyed front part, the car seems to have protected me for the most part. Even so, I ache all over, as if every one of my bones have been jostled around too much.

I fumble at my buckle for a moment, waiting until it clicks before I push at my door as hard as I can. When it doesn't budge, I throw all my weight on it, trying again. It takes at least five painful tries to get it open, and when I do I fall into the glass-covered ground in a heap. Panting, I take a moment to get my bearings before I take my phone out with a shaking hand. I'm barely able to hold still enough to take a picture of the wrecked car beside me. I don't know if the man in the car is dead or not, and I know I won't be able to get up and check myself for a while, but it'll have to do.

As I wait for a response, I can't help but think of how mad Mal is going to be when he finds out I wrecked his car. He's never going to let me drive with him in the car again. I feel a smile creep up on my lips despite this, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to stifle it.

_Wow_ I think _I must have really hit my head hard._

My vision wavers as I pick myself up, and not far ahead I can see someone from the road running toward me.

"Hey! Are you alright?". It's a man, I think. I can't really tell, I can't seem to get my eyes to focus.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down to see the incoming text. I have to practically hold my phone right up to my face to read it.

'_GO HOME. NOW'_

I stumble away from the man as fast as I can, holding my injured shoulder as I do.

* * *

**Please Review? **


	8. Death Sentence

**Thanks so much to mozzi-girl, DizzyRedhead, HopelessRomantic1994 and Guest for the reviews!**

* * *

I run the whole way home, not bothering to look behind me to check if I'm being followed. I avoid the more crowded routes to my apartment building and don't meet anyone on the stairs; but I still attempt to lock my still-broken door.

Throwing my jacket on my couch, I head to the bathroom to access the damage. Looking in the mirror, it's a wonder that I made it home without someone stopping me in the streets. There's a cut on my cheek and judging from the blood my nose must have been bleeding; and I must have some sort of cut on the back of my head judging by the pain back there. I let go of my arm for a moment, which I had been holding tightly against my body for the whole trip, and let out an involuntary gasp of pain. I take a moment to let it subside before I move it again, knowing that I can't risk going to the hospital and having it fixed there. I have to do it myself before the swelling goes up too much.

After a moment of mental preparation I take a deep breath, bending my elbow and getting ready to put my shoulder back in place. I try my best to remember the time I dislocated my shoulder as a kid, after falling off a horse l think, and hope that I can fix it just as well as any doctor can.

I close my eyes as I force my shoulder back into place, and a few tears break through my eyelids as pain shoots through my whole body. It goes away almost instantly, leaving my breathless and pale as I lean against the bathroom sink. I almost smile with relief as the pain fades into a memory; and after cleaning my the rest of my minor wounds I climb into the shower to make sure I get the rest of the blood and broken glass off of me.

The warm water stings every cut and scrape I have, but it feels good to get the few tiny pieces of debris off of me. When I'm done, I wrap up my shoulder and check the cut on the back of my head to find that the bleeding has already almost stopped. I slip into clean clothes and hide the bloody ones in my bedroom until I can dispose of them later.

Before I check my phone again I can feel myself getting shaky, and after a moment of hesitation I reach inside my coat pocket and pop one of the bitter pills into my mouth. I feel bad about it, and would give anything to stop…but now just isn't the time.

My phone rings just as I'm about to reach for it, showing off a new text message. My heart nearly drops as I read it.

'_Outside your door'._

I grab my gun from the counter, nearly ready to chase after him. He couldn't have gone far, I was only in the shower for a few minutes!

Throwing open the door, I sprint out into the empty hallway, my gun raised. Part of me urges me to chase after him; knowing he can't have gone far. The other part, the more logically one, knows I can't risk it. I can't risk failing and having Mal get hurt, or worse, killed.

I start to walk defeatedly back inside when I step on a note placed just inside the door. I grab it and run back inside, shutting the door behind me as I lean against it and read the crumpled note. The handwriting is hasty and messy, perhaps written by someone who no longer had steady hands, but I can just make out the untidy scrawl written in black ink.

_'The pill you just took was laced with a slow-acting poison. You have exactly two hours to find Mal Fallon and say your goodbyes'._

I have to read it several times before my brain is able to put the words together. My hands start to shake, but it doesn't quite sink in right away. I just stand there, my eyes looking for the slightest hope on the messy piece of paper in my hands. How did he know what I was doing? I've known all along he's been keep an eye on me…I just never really thought about how close.

I flip it over, finding nothing more than an address on the back. That's it. There's nothing more written about my life.

Terror washes over me in a wave, and in that moment I find myself sinking to the floor. It's over, it's all over. I can't think or fight my way out of this one. It's either me, or Mal. My only hope is to get to a hospital, immediately alerting Shawn and basically signing Mal's death warrant. Even then, I probably wouldn't survive anyway. Shawn wouldn't use some common poison for me, not when he wants me dead.

No matter what I do, I'm a goner. And even if I have a sliver of a chance of surviving…I would never do that to Mal. I'd rather die than see his dead body float up on a beach somewhere in a week, a bullet through his skull.

The only choice is to accept it and keep going. I know it's best not to dwell on it…but a childish question still makes it's way into my mind.

_Will it hurt to die?_

All those times Mal and I had barely escaped with our lives; all those injuries and accidents had never really made me think about it. I was always too busy trying to get out alive to think about what would happen if I didn't. Of course, now isn't a good time to think about it either. Mal's still out there; poison or not.

Slowly, I pull myself back up, trying to control the trembling that's taken over my hands. As I do, I become more aware of being alive than ever. My heart pounds in my chest; fast as if to compensate for the time I'm about to lose and ensure I get a full lifetime full. Every breath I take feels cold and invigorating, a reminder that I could stop at any time.

Before I leave, I take the box from my bed and place it on my couch. The files that were originally inside are gone; so instead I copy the address onto my hand before I place the bottle and note inside the box. That way, if anything happens to me and I never find Mal…his life won't end with mine. It's stupid to think that Shawn won't kill him after I die, he won't have any use for him after that, but I can't just give up like that. If there's any chance…I have to take it.

I consider writing a note to my parents and sister; but I don't know what I would even say. I know if I do I'll just waste precious time staring at a blank page with a pen in my hands. I don't have time. I just hope that they understand.

The last thing I do is take one last look at my apartment; as if to memorize the home I'll never see again. I wonder what they'll do with it once I'm gone. Would anyone want to live in the home of someone who was murdered?

After wasting at least ten minutes I know I have to go, and as I slip on my coat I notice the three fading words written across my arms. As I do, a surprising calm comes over me as I shut the door behind me for the very last time.

* * *

**Please review?**


	9. Sacrifice

**Thanks so so much to mozzi-girl, HopelessRomantic1994 and My Quiet Riot for the reviews! **

**I'm just going to apologize in advance in case I disappear off the face of the Internet for a while. I've just been under so much pressure lately, and it's really getting to me. I have exams this week and finals next week, I have a lot going on right now so I might disappear for a while (I haven't even been on Tumblr in a while…so sorry if I miss stuff), but I swear I'll be back as soon as I can. ****  
**

* * *

I take a bus.

Since it's the middle of the day, most of the people who take the bus are at work. Because of this, I'm almost alone as I pay and sit in the farthest corner of the bus.

It barely takes ten minutes to get to the nearest stop to where I'm going, but it feels like a matter of seconds. As I get off, I find myself staring at the bus driver for a few moments, unable to look away. He's an older man; with greying hair and squinty eyes.

He could be the last human face I ever see.

It takes me a while to realize what I'm doing; and after what feels like an eternity I step off the bus. I can see the few passengers peer at me curiously from the windows as the bus pulls away; unknowing that they'll probably see me again on the morning news. Only then, it'll be some stiff picture of me, probably taken from my ID. I have to wonder if they'll realize that the strange woman they saw on the bus was living the last few hours of her life.

I find the address four blocks away from the bus stop. It's a nice residential area, one that is most likely filled with families. It's empty now with the kids at school and the adults at work, making it easier to snoop around. Not that I need it, since the place where Shawn wants me to go couldn't be more obvious.

It's the only shabby house on the street. There's a chain-link fence erected around it, and the few rain-worn papers that hang around tell me that it's scheduled to be demolished next week.

Ignoring the caution tape, I take a quick glance behind my shoulder before I scramble up the fence and over to the other side.

As I land, I find myself panting as if I've just run a mile. It takes me several minutes to recover, and as I do I can feel a terrible sense dread creep in my mind. The poison must be starting to take effect, which means I have to hurry.

Bursting into the decaying front door, I take a minute to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness before I plunge in further, pulling my gun from my holster as I walk.

"Mal?" I whisper through barely parted lips. I don't dare say it louder, who knows where Shawn could be now. "Mal?".

Most of the doors in the tiny house are open, revealing rooms so dirty and broken I can't even tell what their original purpose was. Eventually, after carefully sneaking down the hallway, I find the basement. The door is ever-so-slightly ajar as if on purpose, and as I slip down the stairs I can see a huddled shadow in the dim light of the small and grimy window at the top of the wall.

"Mal?" I whisper. For a moment, my heart skips a beat when the figure remains still and silent. And then I see the figure's head turn, and in the dim light I can make out the figure's messy chocolate-brown hair.

I don't hesitate. I nearly kill myself running down the steps as I approach the figure, kneeling down as to wrap arms around him. I can feel him hold me close, his skin cold, his face more stubbly than normal.

Mal seems speechless, and when he does manage to utter a single question he still have a streak of disbelief in his voice. "Where did you come from?".

"Long story, no time. We need to get you out of here" I say quickly, rising to my feet to help him. There's a cut under his eye and a bloody bandage over his left leg, but otherwise he seems okay. He's handcuffed to a support beam, and as I start to study the lock I notice how his wrist has been rubbed raw from the rusted metal.

"Any idea where Shawn is?" I whisper cautiously as I search for something to break the rusty metal.

"Some kind of church…I think" he answers with renewed strength in his voice. "I heard him mumbling about it while he was locking me up".

Suddenly, white-hot pain erupts in my head, nearly making me crumble to the ground. I shut my eyes and in a moment it passes, but I must have made some kind of pained expression because I can almost feel Mal's eyes on me.

"What's wrong?".

"Nothing, I just—". I stop right there as I stare right into his cerulean blue eyes. All I can think of is me, dying in front of Mal. He would never forgive himself. The last thing I would ever hear is him screaming my name.

"Listen to me, Mal" I finally build up the nerve to say through the lump in my throat. "I—We—don't have much time".

"What are you—?".

"Listen!" I snap. "I need you to know that…no matter what happens…" I choke up, unable to finish my sentence. It takes every ounce of strength I have left not to burst out in tears.

"Natara…what are you talking about?". I can't take it anymore. Hot tears steam down my face, and I can hear my own pathetic attempts to breathe. My shoulders shake and I can feel Mal's arms wrap around me, stroking back my hair. I don't want this to me his last memory of me…but I can't help it. The last few days in hell come back as a rush. Mal's abduction. The people I hurt. The times I got hurt. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this…

"I never loved you" I whisper quietly.

"What?".

"I never loved you". I push myself away. I can see confusion in Mal's angelic blue eyes, and I find myself avoiding his gaze. This is what Shawn wanted all along. He wanted me to do this…and I played right into his hands. He knew I would do anything to make it hurt a little less for Mal when I died. He knew I would do anything to keep Mal from the pain. And I fell for it. Like a loser.

Mal will live on. If I leave him here, I can still catch Shawn before I die. He'll never hurt anyone again. Soon, someone will look in my apartment and find the note. They'll find Mal and fix him. He'll be fine. Sure, he'll go on thinking I never loved him. He might still love me back. He'll be hurt. He'll be heartbroken. But not as much as if I told him and loved him. Not as much as if I held my last breath just to feel his lips on mine one last time.

I pick myself up, brushing the tears off my face. "Goodbye, Mal" I say quietly, keeping the words on my lips as cold as ice.

"Tell me the truth". He barely manages to stand up. This almost brings more tears to my eyes. His leg must be really hurting him, since I can see the pain flash across his face as he makes the effort to move from the place where he's been sitting for days. "Tell me what's going on".

I almost snap at him to sit back down, but stop myself just in time. I can't make it seem like I care. No matter what he does…a doctor can fix him. Someone will make him better. It's too late for me. I'm a as good as dead. "Good luck". And with that, I walk outside, ready to make my final act one of justice.

* * *

**Please review so I can see it when I DO become fanfictually active again? ;)**


	10. Angels and Demons

**Thanks so much to NiekaWow, mozzi-girl and HopelessRomantic1994 for the wonderful reviews!**

* * *

Almost half an hour later, I find myself standing in front of a large and familiar church.

The cold stings my arms as I stare up at the old wooden doors, remembering the day so long ago Mal and I had stood outside. That was the day I had teased him for being a choirboy…that day seems like it happened years ago. This has to be the place. It's the only church in San Francisco I know, and there's not a doubt in my mind that Shawn wants me to find him.

As I begin to ascend the stone steps of Mal's old church, an older man dressed like a priest exits the door I was just about to enter. He smiles at me, holding a suitcase. He must be leaving for the day.

"Can I help you miss?" He asks in a saintly voice. I recognize him immediately as the priest who had recognized Mal that day, but he clearly doesn't remember me. Why would he?

"No".

"Are you sure? Forgive me for saying so, but you seem a little ill".

I nod, fully aware of my flushed face and tired-looking eyes. The truth is that I feel like death. I can almost feel the fire-like fever raging just beneath my skin, and I want nothing more than to lie my aching body to rest and just give up.

"I know…I-I have been for a long time" I lie quietly.

"Well than, feel free to go inside to go inside and sit for a while. Many people find churches comforting in their times of need; whether they're religious or not" he answer kindly. He starts to walk away. He must be in a hurry to get somewhere.

"Thank you. I think I will" I answer back. But I don't think he heard me, because a moment later he's waving down a taxi.

I watch as he goes, wondering if leaving Mal behind was such a good idea. I wave this though away immediately though, knowing nothing would have stopped Mal, even his injuries, from following me as I find Shawn and meet my inevitable death. It's better this way. Someone will find him. He'll be okay.

The sanctuary is empty as I enter, the old wooden pews that normally would hold families empty because of the day if the week. I don't see anyone, including Shawn, and decide to check the top where the bells would go off at every hour.

It takes a few minutes to find the stairs to get there, and luckily I don't meet anyone along the way. I can start to feel my strength wavering as I peel back an ancient-looking door, pulling out my gun and creeping silently up the steps.

I don't even get a chance to look at the room around me before I feel a strong hand push me to the ground. Too tired and weak to fight back, I feel the cruel sting of the wooden floor on my back as I hit it, and I gasp in pain as my head follows.

"Looks like the little ticking time-bomb finally decided to show up".

I try to pull myself up, but I feel the heavy weight of a shoe pin my shoulder down, keeping me to the floor. I try again before I collapse down to the floor, knowing that it's too late. My body is already giving up.

"S-Shawn" I stutter through the pain that suddenly explodes in my head, nearly blinding me. I can barely make out the thin and defeated-looking silhouette standing above me. The only parts of his face I can see are distorted and oddly-colored by the light of the stain-glass window behind him.

I choke on my own breath for a moment, my lungs seizing. I can already feel death taking me into it's first grasp, and in my panic I'm only able to choke out a few words. "You…you won't get away with this".

"I already have". I try with all my might to get back up again. Shawn shoves me back down like I'm nothing more than a weak child. "You and I…we're already the same".

"That's not true" I say in my struggle to breathe. But I know it's true. The limp. The addiction. …the murders. And I was blind enough—stupid enough—to get myself caught in this trap.

I try one last time to get up, using all my strength to do so. A sharp pain running through my veins like fire, but I don't stop until Shawn shoves me back down again. This time, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to black out the agony burning just beneath my skin. I know that they won't open again.

"You are dead, Natara Williams" I hear Shawn say in an echoey voice, as if he's thousands of miles away. "And once you're gone, everything you've done will be linked back to you. The whole world will know that you followed in my footsteps".

I hear a tapping sound, like a light footstep on a step. I feel the pressure of Shawn's foot leave my shoulder.

'_It's a priest'_ I think _'He must have heard something and came to see what's going on. Shawn's going to kill him'. _A moment later, I hear a gunshot. But I have bigger things on my mind.

I struggle as I inhale, as if a weight is pressing down on my chest.

In my mind I can see the ocean before me, a crowd gathering around a girls body. The scent of the sea clings to my clothes as I step forward and take a picture before a man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes steps toward me.

_**Exhale**._

I can see Neha, tears streaming down her face as I pull a gag from her mouth. As I look into my baby sister's eyes, I can see pain and misery, but I know that one day she'll be alright again.

**_Inhale._**

I am kneeling, dying on the carpet of a large room. I can hear a familiar voice sound over a radio nearby.

_"Is saving Natara Williams really worth spending the rest of your life in jail?"._

_"No". There's a pause. "She's worth more that that. She's worth everything"._

_**Exhale**._

That brown-haired man has his hands on the small of my back, our lips are touching. The moment is so gentle and perfect; too flawless to ruin by pausing for breath. As I stop, I wonder if I'll ever breathe again. I feel dizzy and warm, a smile so grand it almost hurts playing across my lips. A moment later, the moment is destroyed by a noise that tears the who scene apart.

**_Inhale._**

I am on the cold floor of a church, the lifeless wood stealing the heat from my body. I am lost in darkness, unable to escape the agony that wracks my body with every heartbeat. My breath catches in my throat, held captive by my lungs. My eyes are closed, but I can almost feel myself form into a hard ball of pain.

I hear nearby footsteps and know that Shawn is coming back to finish me off. I manage to peel my eyes open, instantly mesmerized by the colorful light of the stain-glass window that illuminates my nearly-still body. I hear someone call my name.

I hear a faint chime, and a moment later I hear the bells sound at a nearly deafening volume. They ring once, twice, three times before stopping; marking the hour. Somewhere, people will hear their faint ringing, not knowing that nearby someone is spending their last moments counting the chimes.

After the last lingering chimes of the bell I can feel someone grab my arm, shaking me. Every inch of me hurts, but I don't respond.

I hear my name being called one last time before I let the darkness swallowing me up; the voice I hear so desperate and filled with fear they sound like an angel trapped in hell.

**_Exhale_**.


	11. Stay

**So…I'm happy to say that I'm back for good now :) I finished my training and passed all my exams, so I'm officially done! (Thank God I never have to attend another extra class EVER AGAIN). Hopefully I'll be able to read all the new fanfics I've been missing, but for now here's what may or may not be the second to last chapter. And thanks so much to HopelessRomantic1994, mozzi-girl and NiekaWow for the reviews! Seriously, they meant the world to me :')  
**

* * *

**Mal Fallon's PoV**

I wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance. I didn't see anything that happened after those bright white door closed.

But what I did see was the dark blue color that Natara's lips were turning as I carried her out to the street; screaming for help. I did see them put a dozen tubes into her arm and a mask on her face as they forced air into her lungs. I saw the grim face on the paramedic that was forcing her to breathe.

I lose track of time as I sit in the waiting room, the bullet wound I got trying to escape already carefully treated. I get some odd looks from the nurses, probably from the fact that I've been trapped in a basement for two days, but no one says anything.

After what feels like hours one particular nurse walks by me, and I can tell that she's coming for me just by her face.

"Malachi Fallon?" She says sweetly. I stand up and she offers to shake my hand. I don't take it.

"How is she?" I'm barely able to say.

I know the answer even before she says it. I can see it in the way that her posture changes, the way her dark eyes seem to widen with sympathy. I guess I must have picked it up from Natara. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fallon".

"No".

"She's not doing well" she continues. "She's awake…but I'm afraid she won't have much longer. She's barely hanging on".

"No" is all I'm able to say again. This has to be a joke. Natara, who's survived so many things that any normal person could, can't possibly be dying. "This can't be right".

"I'm very sorry, sir" the nurse says, giving me a sympathetic smile. Everything, even her expression, is perfectly rehearsed. The little bit of Natara in me tells me that she's done this a million times before. "We tried our best to get whatever she ingested out of her system, but the fact is the results for the substance won't come back in time. We have no way of knowing what's in her system, let alone how to treat it". She clears her throat professionally. "If you'd like a little time to collect yourself before you go—".

"No" I say for the third time. I can hear the emptiness and disbelief in my voice, and I know that she must too. "No…I want to see her now".

She nods, taking me away from the waiting room. I pass the few people that remain in there during the day, and I can almost feel their eyes on me. I know that they're wondering why I'm being taken and not them. I certainly don't look sick or hurt.

The nurse leads me to a room just at the end of the hall, opening the door and stepping aside to let me in first.

"Natara…".

She isn't moving. Her eyes are open, but other than that, there's nothing to suggest that she's still conscious. There are tubes in her nose and an IV in her arm, but she doesn't seem to notice any of this. All she does is stare at the door; watching the two people who just entered her room.

Her eyes follow me as I walk across the room, and I already know that something isn't right. There's still warmth in her perfect caramel-colored eyes, and she still has same face that would always draw people's eyes. One that made you want to pay attention to whatever she had to say, whether she demanded it or not.

But when she looks at me, I can see what's wrong right away. There's no recognition in her gaze, none of the same loving warmth. I'm a stranger. An intruder. She doesn't know me anymore.

"Natara…" is all I'm able to repeat as I pull up a chair, reaching across the sheets to take one of her cold hands in mine. Her fingertips are already fading in color. I don't think she has very long.

What I should do is tell her it's okay to let go. That everything will be okay if she just gives up. But as I swallow the lump in my throat and open my mouth to say it, the words won't come out. I know that Natara, if she was with me, wouldn't want that. She would want to fight to the end, no matter how hard it is. She would want to show that she's stronger than anything Shawn did to her.

I don't say anything though; I'm too torn between telling her to go and telling her to stay. I want her here more than anything…but I want what's best for her. I'm not used to making decisions for her, and I hope I never will. She was never one to let people do things for her.

I start to get up, knowing it doesn't matter what I do anyway. She doesn't know who I am, I can tell just by the way she looks at me. If anything, I'm just making everything worse. I should just leave and let her rest. Who knows? Maybe somewhere under that blank face she's fighting to stay alive.

I start to slip my hand out from hers, but I feel the slightest movement, lighter than a feather brushing my skin. I glance down to see her hand slowly curling around mine, and I when I look at her face I can see a silent word escaping from her slightly parted lips.

_"Stay"._

I sit back down, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen in her face behind her ear. She looks at me strangely. She doesn't know who I am.

But she still doesn't want me to go.


	12. Recovery

**I just wanna thank you guys for being so patient with me, even though it's been so long (I'm so sorry). This is going to be the last chapter, and I'm going to try to update _Fine Again _very soon. Also, thanks so much to The Beautiful Filth (I love your username by the way), mozzi-girl (Molly), HopelessRomantic1994 (Jade) and NikeaWow for the reviews; I hope you enjoy the last chapter! **

* * *

**Natara's PoV**

I open my eyes to bright sunlight, tinted yellow by the sunshine-yellow curtains that cover the panes of glass before me. Sitting up, the first think I notice is the dull ache just behind my eyes. The second is that I have no idea where I am.

There's medical equipment beside my bed, and as I slowly pull myself to my feet the room spins, forcing me to grab the nearest machine for support. After it passes I slowly walk over to the window, pulling back the curtains and peering down. The window is thoroughly frosted, but after a minute of pressing my hand to the ice-cold surface I manage to create a circle large enough to see out.

There's a parking lot below, fairly empty due to the barely-rising sun. Beyond that I can see city streets; and in the distance I can see the ocean peaking out from between two tall buildings. A sign in the parking lot tells me that I'm in San Francisco General Hospital.

'_San Francisco?_' I think. _'How in the world did I end up here?'._

There's a knock at the door and I turn from the window, watching as a man with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair slips inside. There's a huge smile on his face, suggesting that he's happy to see me…but I don't recognize him.

"I'm so glad you're okay". He reaches forward as if to pull me into a hug, but I inch away, avoiding his embrace.

"I'm sorry…do I know you?".

A look of realization crosses the man'a face; and several emotions show in only a matter of seconds before vanishing behind a mask of feigned strength. Fear, anger, sorrow…even some that I can't describe. But I know I've hurt this man, the one that I don't even faintly recognize. I hurt him real bad.

"I'm sorry" I say again. "I'm really sorry".

The man makes a rather twitchy movement toward me, as if he were about to wrap me in an embrace but suddenly remembered the situation and decided against it at the last moment. He looks rather lost for a moment, like a puppy that's strayed too far from it's owner. I feel a twinge of sadness pull at my heart, and it barely takes a second for me to realize that even if I don't know him, i still don't want to see this man get hurt. So I look up into his big sad eyes and, without even hesitating, reach out and hug him.

For a brief moment, the man doesn't react. He seems shocked. He's probably as confused as I am at this point, and in a few moments that feel like an awkward eternity he does nothing. But soon he wraps his arms around me, his fingers pressed into the notches of my spine, his warmth leaking into my skin. I take a moment to just breathe, inhaling deeply and trying to think who this man could possibly be.

And then it hits me. I know this man. I know his embrace. I know the scent of his jacket and the warmth of his body. I know that, if I touched it, his hair would be soft and thick. I know how his face feels against mine on mornings that he doesn't shave. I know how it feels to have him stand behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist as I sip coffee and watch the early San Francisco traffic from the window in his apartment. I know how it feels to have his lips press against mine early in the morning, before the streets are filled with honking horns and screeching tires. I know what if feels like to lay my head on his chest and hear the air enter his lungs.

I know what if feels like to be carried out of danger by him, not knowing where we're going, but knowing it's better than where I am.

All of this hits me like an fist in my gut; both the good memories and the bad. I know about Shawn. I know about Ken. I know why I lost my memory. I know all the things I wish I could forget, but none of that matters. All that matters is that my journey through hell is finally over now, and I can finally breathe again.

"Mal…". I stop there. I don't know what to say. I don't think I ever will. But just his name is enough, and without a moment of hesitating I feel his lips on mine; and I know that, for now, all is right with the world.


End file.
